


What Goes Up, Must Come Down (book 1)

by HanShootsFirst



Series: What Goes Up, Must Come Down [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Random - Freeform, idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanShootsFirst/pseuds/HanShootsFirst
Summary: Cass Crouch hated everything. She hated her father, who never seemed to have enough time for her, she hated Harry Potter, who was  WAY too overrated, she hated Hogwarts because…erm…she would figure that out later. But at the top of her hate list (still under Harry Potter and Dumbledore, of course) was George Weasley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stella/gifts), [Olivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivia/gifts), [amelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia/gifts), [Amanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanda/gifts).



> MK PEOPLE I WROTE THIS HORRIBLE BOOK A LONG LONG TIME AGO AND MY FRIEND TOLD ME TO PUT IT ON HERE IM SORRY MK THX BYEEEEEE

Wanted dead or alive  
Sirius Black  
100,000 galleon reward to any witch or wizard that finds him.

The Daily Prophet newspaper that I have just picked up read. Under it is a long article about Sirius Black and what he did, where he might be found and such.

I honestly don't find it very important, but according to my father, Sirius Black is top priority, and should be the only thing on everyone's mind.

But the real question is: if Sirius Black was top priority, why hasn't the ministry caught him yet? He's been out of Azkaban prison for over a year now. My father, Bartemius Crouch, is doing a really lousy job at finding this man.

I place the paper down, and stare across the empty compartment at the red velvet booth just as the train starts to move. Here's to another crappy year at Hogwarts. I think to myself. All years at Hogwarts were crappy. When were you ever actually going to need to turn an animal into a freaking goblet?! 

And why should I go back to Dumbledore, of all people? Father claims that he is trying to take over Fudge as Minister Of Magic. But oh, no, even though the headmaster of my school want's the Minister's job, I still have to go back to half-breeds teachers and mudblood students. It is going to suck.

Or maybe not...My thoughts turn unnaturally optimistic as I remember my father saying something was happening this year, and he would be coming to Hogwarts, but he was refusing to tell me. "You'll find out soon enough." He had told me. “Now leave me alone Cassiopeia, I have to work.”

I sigh as I reach over and grab the Prophet again, turning the page, to an article about a breakout of dragon pox in Romania. Sucks to be them...

"Heyo, mind if I sit here?" A voice says from the compartment door. I look up to see a tall, red head boy that appears to be in his 6th or 7th year with a stupid smile on his face. Clearly he doesn’t know who I am, as every sane who does claims they would rather jump off a cliff than have to spend ten minutes with me.

"Go ahead." I motion for him to across from me, setting the Prophet to my right, and begin to fiddle around with my necklace. He does.

"You're Cassiopeia, right? Cassiopeia Crouch. Your dad works for the Ministry, right?" I nod, cringing at the sound of my dreadfully long name but not bothering to correct him. Maybe he does know who I am.

My father and mother both work at the ministry, actually, but they divorced a while back so it gets really awkward when they run into each other during work. My mum is an Unspeakable in the Department Of Mysteries, and my dad is.....I actually don't know, and really don't care either. 

"Then WHAT IS HAPPENING AT HOGWARTS???!!!!" The boy demands, grabbing my wrist. 

I jump back in shock at the boy’s sudden outburst. "I don't know! He wouldn't tell me! Honestly!" After reading my expression, he lets go.

"Sorry," He apologizes "I thought you might know."

I shrug, not really caring. "What's your name?"

"Fred Weasley."

"Weasley?" I raise my eyebrows. "As in Arthur Weasley? The blood-traitor."

Fred Weasley's face turned bright red with anger. "Did you just call my dad a blood traitor?!"

"Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that, Weaselbee?" 

He hesitates for a second, and looks like he’s going to say something, but then changes his mind, stands up and storms out of the compartment, leaving me back to my thoughts.

Okay, my family isn't very blood-prejudice, but I am for some reason. Muggles are filth. 

Apparently, my older brother, Barty, was also like me, and died in Azkaban after being arrested for torturing two Aurors. I have no memories of him, as he is way older than me, and was put in Azkaban when I was only one year old. He died when I was three, according to dad.

Father was really young when he had Barty, so our age gap is 17 years. I'm 14, so he would be 31, if he was still alive. 

My father was the judge for his hearing, and let him be arrested. At least according to Dumbledore. He told me in my first year, claiming "I had the right to know." Now, I wish I didn't. 

My father has always been somewhat of a neglect. But never would I ever imagine him doing that. I hate him. Yes, you may say hate is a strong word, and good little Jewish girl like me would say   
strongly dislike, but in this case, hate is sugar coating. I wish I had been sorted into Slytherin now, just like Barty, but oh, no, when I was 11, I just had to want to please my dad, so I begged the stupid hat for Ravenclaw, his house.

And that's where I ended up.

Thanks dad


	2. Chapter 2

After the annoyingly long train ride with no one to talk to (as usual) I hop off the Hogwarts Express, thankful that I don’t have to go on it for another 9 months, and walk to where the carriage's drag us off to another year of torture at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my trunk at my heels.

The first carriage that comes my way, I climb onto. I was looking for some more quality time with myself, but you don't always get what you wish for, so of course, only seconds after I got myself situated with another Prophet article, I was interrupted by none other than Cedric Diggory and his little group of Hufflepuff friends.

Now, please don't judge me because I know Cedric Diggory's name. I only know him because he beat Harry Potter in the Quidditch match last year, the match that I had nothing better to do, so I decided to go.

That was a big mistake. It resulted in me hating Cedric

And me swearing to myself that I would never going to another Quidditch match again.

And before you judge me on knowing who Harry Potter is, you'd have to be living under a rock for the past 14 years to not know who he is.

"Hello," Cedric greets me politely as he gets onto the carriage. 

I just give him a nod, before returning to my article. He may be a pure-blood, but he's also a blood-traitor, who I do not speak with. He isn't even worthy of my nods, but I decided to be generous today.

"It's Cassiopeia, right?" He asks. Why does everyone say Cassiopeia? It's a mouth full, and makes them sound like my dad. He always calls me Cassiopeia and Cassi. I'd prefer Cass. But Cassiopeia is better than Cassi. Cassi sounds so....sweet. Innocent. American. Stupid. It's an insult to my intelligence to be called Cassi.

"Yup. You're Mr. Incompetent, am I wrong?" I mumble, my mind and thoughts mostly consumed in my paper, but I was still able to come up with a worthy insult. Not me best, that's for sure, but it works. I bet Cedric doesn't even know what incompetent means. Stupid Hufflepuffs.

"Er...no. I'm. Ced-ric Digg-or-y." He says slowly, as if I wouldn't be able to catch it if he spoke at a normal pace.

"I know, idiot. Unlike you, I understand sarcasm." I snort, and go back to the Prophet. 

Oh," Cedric says, confusion in his voice. "Well, nice to meet you, miss know-it-all." Wow. That's just sad. Is that seriously the best insult he could come up with? Know-it-all? Honestly, I take pride in being a know it all. 

Quickly, I reach into the pocket of my cloak, and pull out a small little notebook with a leather cover. My observations notebook.

But it's not your average observations notebook. I use it to write down anything I see or hear that sounds important or interesting. Everything has a way of coming back. This could be very valuable information. In my first year, I used it for only Professor quotes, was able to put the pieces together the Quirrell wasn't right. Then, in my third year, I decided to write down more that just professor's quotes. But still, I learned that Lupin was a werewolf. Filthy half-breeds.

I also use it to write down funny incidents, so when I'm bored I can just look back at these and have a good laugh.

Okay, call me a stalker. I don't care. My information has always been useful. 

My brother, well, technically, Barty is my half-brother, but whatever. His mom died, so my father remarried Barty always (according to my father) he did something similar, and had the same effect.

"Miss know-it-all." -7th year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory 

I scribble into my notebook.

"What's that?" Cedric asks, peering over my shoulder in attempt to read it.

I slam it shut immediately. "Something that someone with your brain capacity wouldn't understand." 

I'm only speaking the truth, Cedric dearest.


End file.
